Crimson Snow
by Wolfy129
Summary: --This, This is about recent Alaska... I don't think it'll offend anyone, E-mail me if it does. "2004, Alaska, a wolf pack of only five trudges through the snow persued by a helicopter. They would never see the day" About the wolf hunting in Alaska. They


Nip: Fee-chan, what are you DOING?  
  
Wolf: I'm writing something I hope will become a disaster anyway.  
  
Nip: What is it?  
  
Wolf: well, the first Document is a letter to Governor Murkowski, the other is a story with no reasoning at all.  
  
Nip: *Begins to read the annoying little document*  
  
~*~  
  
Soft clawed paws dashed the snow lightly. You would think they were Gods, the way their silver fur neatly flashed through the forest. In fact, one wouldn't even know they were there unless you turned and saw their glinting golden eyes reflecting gentle moonlight.  
  
They were the forest's sigh, a whole pack of nearly white wolves, passing through the woods soundlessly.  
  
Helicopter blades dice the sky soon after such a peaceful sight. Man's voices cut the sound to make it even worse. Pine trees and forest snows groan as they are pushed back by unnatural forces. The creeks gentle light bubbling is completely over-written.  
  
The wolves are slower now, slower than usual, but still a great deal ahead of their flying predator. As the helicopters leave, the bright red flashing of light and blackish paint leaves with it. The forest resumes it's posture, only missing a wolf pack.  
  
...  
  
The omega, a younger wolf, has been straining this whole time. He is in the back, and is not surprised no one will help them. The devil is chasing them, and they don't know why. His ragged breath comes out in strains now, as he lags behind a few feet more. His throat is dry and cracking, his feet sore.  
  
He can only keep running, no matter where he goes, he must go far. He must get away, he must... survive. Helplessly, he watches as his pack continues to get farther and farther away.  
  
Finally, there is a dull crack and a thump. He had blindly tripped over a rock and broken his leg.  
  
The giant black and red plane lands in on its prey. A man, wearing a fine warm grin strolls out, bearing a long gun. The wolf continues to twitch, his strong spirit not yet broken- It couldn't end just yet, he had such a long life to live...  
  
... There is a crack through the heavy winter air, and the wolf moves no more. His eyes glazed over in a painful stare forward- to the safety he could never seek. The man cackles, breaking the air almost as harshly as the gunshot did.  
  
His body only adds to the count, tossed in the back of a helicopter as they lift off to "Professionally Control" the rest of the pack.  
  
The snow is now stained a blood red. The crimson may blend or fade away, but it will forever leave a permanent scar on the life that was once so serene here.  
  
~*~  
  
The alpha urges his brave pack forward, even though he may know it is a helpless effort. The helicopter is back, just as far away as it was before. His beautifully golden eyes search forward. He cannot look back.  
  
... He knows none of them will see the light of day.  
  
An elder, the old alpha male of the pack, begins to slow as well. His paws no longer glide across the snow, but slash at it in a desperate attempt to catch up. His old gray fur whistles along with him.  
  
The helicopter is almost above him now. Watching the unnatural light, he slows to a trot, accepting his fate...  
  
The pack hears a long, distant, depressing howl at the back, and the lovely song is quickly cut off by another slice. They wince at the cackling of the man in a language they cannot and never will understand.  
  
"EY! JACK! We got a big one this time!"  
  
A female who had just lost her pups to these men sprints forward with a new burst of energy. She watches yet again how the other female of the pack begins to drop behind her.  
  
They are of three wolves now. The moon watches them unforgiving for a sin they never knew they had committed. Ravens startled by the machine slicing branches away fly and make for the sky, scattering black feathers all over the snow.  
  
The slowing female with her light eyes set stubbornly forward, hears the eerie growling and whirring of the helicopter blades coming closer than she would have liked. She was not slowing, right?  
  
Now realizing how far the Alpha's had gotten away from her, her determination dropped drastically. She slowed to a trot, tongue hanging out of her mouth. Her crystal eyes drooped to a level as if to look like she were crying. She lets out a strangled "C-come, come back..." cry before the helicopter lands behind her and ends her strangled, painful, dance in front of certain death.  
  
The hunter, now a tad annoyed about how hard it was to kill the young Alpha wolves, took a shot from where he was standing out of frustration. He wanted to get back home to his wife and family, warmed by a fire and cooking up some of the moose he had saved from those nasty, savage wolves. How DARE they intrude on HIS Alaska?!  
  
Unbeknownst to the hunter, one of the wolves had taken the shot. Directly in the leg, she let out a few strained leaps before collapsing into the deepening snow. Her snout scrunched showing fangs. She cringed ashamed that she could not save or live with her mate.  
  
The raven and crow feathers mixed with her crimson blood against the white snow, and her graceful fur showed a true struggle. It almost matched the colors of the red and black helicopter.  
  
Which, had landed behind her. A man stepped out, slightly confused. He scratched his heavy black beard, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck. She flipped over with the last of her strength and bit him in the hand. It was not a bad bite, but it was enough for a Band-Aid.  
  
The man swore and pulled out his gun immediately shot her fatally. Her twisted face bled all over the man's coat. His poor, poor wife- She would have another wash to do when he got home. After all, he was going to go out tomorrow to do this again. It was FUN!  
  
The alpha male had nothing left- nothing to live for. His whole pack was shot and killed- not nobly, as they would have preferred, but violently, and in one night. He would not see the light of the sun again. He would never taste cool crisp spring water after play with his pack, never howl at the moon with them. Never- never again.  
  
He gave a very angered vicious look at the woods, the sky, the helicopter. He asked, "Why?" but it was never heard.  
  
The final crack was shot. And the graceful white wolf took it straight in the chest, then in the head, almost grinning bitterly.  
  
..." And man wonders why he was never given wings? Oh well, let's see how they fair against their final judgement. At least I never did anything wrong."  
  
~*~ 


End file.
